The Penalty eBook

Lichtenstein packed the things which he and Bubbles
had taken off into a suit-case marked “A.P.”
(Amelia Popple), and led the way downstairs. A
little later a taxicab drew up at the curb, and the
two disguised secret-service agents sauntered down
the high steps of Mrs. Popple’s brownstone house,
looking neither to the right nor to the left, and
got in.

“Where to?” said the driver, with rather
a bold leer. The average lady who descended or
ascended Mrs. Popple’s steps; was not considered
respectable even by taxi-drivers.

It had been agreed that Bubbles, having of the two
the more feminine adaptabilities of voice, should
do the talking.

“Grand Central,” he said.

XXXIX

Barbara was reading “Smoke” and did not
wish to be interrupted by a “young person”
(in the footman’s words) who refused to give
her name. Nevertheless she was weakly good-natured
in such matters, and closing her book said: “Very
well—­in here, John.”

A moment later the young person was shown into the
living-room. Barbara was still more annoyed,
for young faces covered with powder were odious to
her. But suddenly the young person’s mouth
curled into a captivating grin, and the young person
trotted forward in a very un-young-personish way,
and cried triumphantly:

“It’s me—­Bubbles.”

And Bubbles followed Barbara’s gratifying exclamations
of surprise and inquiry with a syncopated outburst
of explanation, finishing with: “And Mr.
Lichtenstein said I was to throw us on your mercy,
and ask if he could stay to finish his writing, and
he’s stepped into some bushes off the driveway
to put on his own clothes. And please, Miss Barbara,
he’s just the finest and bravest ever, and don’t
care what happens to him, only he says they’re
bound to get him now everything’s found out,
and he’s just got to finish writing down what
he carries in his head.”

“Of course,” said Barbara, “we’ll
have to tell my father; but all will be well.
Mr. Lichtenstein shall stay. Bring him to me when
he’s finished changing, and then you’d
best change, and if you don’t want to have a
sore face wash all that nasty stuff off it.”

Lichtenstein had already changed, and was coming up
the driveway carrying a suit-case. Bubbles brought
him at once, and with great pride, to Barbara.
Mr. Lichtenstein had never seen her before. In
his bow there was a trace of Oriental elaboration.
And his curiously meagreish, pug-nosed sandy face
beamed with pleasure and admiration.

“I thought I knew my New York, Miss Ferris,”
he said, “but it seems I was mistaken.”

Since the compliment was obviously sincere, Barbara
took pleasure in it, and the pleasure showed in her
charming face. “And Bubbles says,”
said she, “that you are the ‘finest ever.’
I’m glad if staying here is going to help the
cause. You can be as private as you like—­”
But a sudden change had come over Lichtenstein’s
face, the smile had vanished, the eyes grown sharp,
even stern. “What is your maid’s name?”
he asked abruptly.